Past Becomes Present
by CaptainLyssa
Summary: Prequel to A Wrinkle in Time. "We met six years ago." "More like you ran into me, Flyboy, spilling everything I owned on the floor." "I helped you pick it up and took you out for a meal afterwards to say sorry." "Some nocturnal entertainment, you mean, just so you didn't have to go and visit the Admiral." T for mild language and adult themes.
1. First Contact

Past Becomes Present

Prequel to A Wrinkle in Time. _We met six years ago_. More like you ran into me, Flyboy, spilling everything I owned on the floor. _I helped you pick it up and took you out for a meal afterwards to say sorry_. Some nocturnal entertainment, you mean, just so you didn't have to go and visit the Admiral. T for mild language, adult themes.

 **First Contact: Tuesday 30th March 2365**

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" A furious ball of energy demanded.

Ex-cadet B'Elanna Torres stood with her hands clenched into fists, resting them on her waist so she didn't strike the man currently and oh so casually scooping up the sum total of her life. Legs slightly apart, she swore in Klingon under her breath as he reached for yet another item to gently place in the carton. Then he looked up at her, blue eyes twinkling and a mischievous grin on his perfectly proportioned lips. The fact he didn't respond to either her outrageous anger or heritage confused the young half Klingon enough to cool her ire ever so slightly.

Rolling her eyes B'Elanna couldn't help thinking, _that's the whole reason I'm leaving this wretched place. People take one look at me and make judgements before I open my mouth. Then they expect me to go all Klingon and defend myself with my fists. This guy should be running the other way at warp speed with the expression on my face. So why the hell isn't he?_

"I can see you must have had ol' Sneezy for survival, Cadet," the blonde teased with a lop-sided grin. His warp core blue eyes continued to shimmer with unbridled playfulness as he looked up at her from his position on the floor.

"What?' B'Elanna demanded, not quite comprehending his comment.

Barely a minute ago, _**he'd**_ come around the corner, in complete silence and not watching where _**he**_ was going. The man was stronger and heavier than he looked, forcing B'Elanna to stumble under the onslaught of the sudden body contact. She'd managed to remain upright, only _**he'd**_ knocked the box with every item she owned to the floor, scattering the contents in a three metre radius. Without another word he knelt down, retrieved the upturned crate and started collecting her belongings with practiced ease. Stunned, B'Elanna Torres stood mute and watched with astonishment.

 _He must be wondering why I don't get down on my hands and knees to help him,_ came the internal Klingon snarl. That portion of her heritage reacted to this man as she'd never responded to another being in her life. In truth, it frightened her, bringing out the very worst of her genetic inheritance. _There's no way I'm lowering myself to his level. He needs to prove himself before I'll move a finger to help. After all this is all his fault._

A PADD currently held aloft in his hand, he threw it into the box carelessly, earning in him a deep frown for treating her equipment so carelessly. Then he had the tenacity to chuckle at her expression. "You're lucky you know."

"Lucky?" B'Elanna asked, somewhat confused. This wasn't going quite how she anticipated.

"Commander Zakarian's class would have been a breeze to pass." With that the man in his mid twenties finally stood, looked around as he wore a self satisfied expression when the floor offered no other items. He towered over her petite frame. It was only then B'Elanna Torres realised he was in a Starfleet Lieutenant's uniform of the command stream. "I'm not sure you would have liked The Admiral's class. Not many of us did."

Equal parts intrigued and irritated, B'Elanna challenged, "I bet you _**still**_ did well."

His smirk changed to something inscrutable, yet he offered sadly, "B minus."

"The Admiral had it in for you?" B'Elanna enquired, watching a complex set of emotions cross the man's face before his eyes shuttered and he became lost to his melancholy thoughts. Feeling the deprivation of his joviality, Torres nostrils flared. Two sensations hit her at the same instant. Sadness that her words had wiped the lighthearted smile from his face and the unique odour that was _**him**_. Neither circumstance had ever occurred to her before, which only brought her Klingon nature, and famous temper to the surface.

"I don't think I could have done anything to meet that man's expectation," he responded sadly before she could fire off a sarcastic response to her mixed and confusing emotions. "Come on, Cadet," suddenly the devilish smirk was back which put B'Elanna's rising animosity on hold. Picking up her box, he looked around, once again ensuring he'd retrieved all her belongings.

"How did you know I had ol' Sneezy as my survival Professor?" She asked, not moving a muscle.

That elicited a full bodied laugh from the Lieutenant, as he shifted her box to one hip. "Only Zakarian uses that old text," he explained, starting to move down the corridor. If B'Elanna wanted to hear the rest of his explanation, she'd need to follow, and follow she did. Of their own accord, her legs moved to take up a position beside him. "Cadets have more trouble deciphering the twentieth century language than learning the concepts of basic survival within this book."

"Have you read it," B'Elanna understood his sentiments. She'd spent hours pouring over the text, only to find her classmates had found a modernised copy in Federation standard and not shared the fact with her. Once again her nostrils flared as she tried to swallow her rising aggression at the perceived insult. Once again her olfactory senses distinguished his sent from those surrounding them. It was an odd and unsettling experience.

"In it's original, English format," he responded, eyes twinkling. "It actually loses something in the translation and ol' Sneezy knows the Cadets that cheat." Watching the reactions of the woman at his side, the Lieutenant sighed. "Let me guess, no one bothered to tell you about it."

"No," came the succinct answer. B'Elanna barely managed to contain the growl that built up with her anger.

Once again that deeply amused laugh that wasn't aimed at her but at the situation, filled the air. "Your classmates probably did you a favour, although they didn't know it at the time."

"Maybe," B'Elanna said, watching the Lieutenants profile. He extruded an unique aura, unlike anyone else Torres had ever met. For a few seconds she forgot about her crumbling world and felt, well, normal.

"You don't have to answer this, Cadet," the Lieutenant's tone suddenly turned serious, "what's with the box?"

"I'm not a Cadet," she offered.

"That uniform tells a different story," he stated gently. "Second year's the worst. We lost a lot of really promising Cadets in my class. Good people who couldn't take the righteousness and rigamarole of Starfleet's exacting standards. Sometimes I wondered if I could breathe under all the rules and regulations."

"But you did," confusion laced B'Elanna's expression as she tried to understand him. He seemed to know exactly how she felt. That, like the other sensations this Lieutenant brought out in her, confused and frightened her. It seemed she ocellated between rage and fear while he compelled the best and worst of her character to be expelled.

"Didn't have a choice," once again that sad smile that didn't reach his eyes, but dulled the colour to a stormy almost grey. "Service family. I was brought up with Starfleet protocols and procedures. Would have broken Dad's heart and disappointed my sisters if I dropped out. They've all made Lt. Commander before their thirtieth birthday."

"Tough act to follow," B'Elanna genuinely felt sorry for the man walking at her side. It seemed his family issues rivalled her's, but for very different reasons.

"I am expected to beat it, as the only son," he frowned, stopping dead in the middle of the hallway.

Grinning at the self mocking remark, B'Elanna's seldom used caustic wit rose. "Looks like you're well on your way, Lieutenant. You can't be more than twenty five and have two gold pips on your collar already."

"I only got the second one today," he grinned, recognising her humour. "That's one promotion for every second year since I graduated. Now I have a month's furlough before joining my new ship as Chief pilot and second officer and no reason to avoid spending some of my leave with my family."

"Tough position to be in," B'Elanna agreed, holding in her mirth. It was far to close to her own situation, in reverse. She had nowhere to go, no career and only her engineering skills to recommend her to potential employers.

"I'll do you a deal, Cadet," he smiled in response to her teasing. "You give me a reason not to go home and I'll give you a hand moving out of your dorm room."

"What exactly does that entail, Lieutenant," B'Elanna requested, her emotions on edge, wondering if this experience had all been a ruse. A way to use her as other's had attempted in the past.

"Let's dump this box at my apartment, it's on campus and then go out for dinner," he suggested easily. Before she could protest, Tom Paris smirked and looked down into her warm chocolate eyes. They'd changed subtly over the course of their conversation. She was about to run, but he had the trump card. "When my dad calls in the morning, I can say I went out to dinner with a friend from the academy."

"What excuse will you use tomorrow night?" B'Elanna asked cautiously.

"Tomorrow is a whole day away," he grinned. "I'm sure something will come up by then. So, Ex-cadet, what do you say? Willing to brave my company so I can make up for spilling the contents of your life all over the floor?"

Nodding, B'Elanna fell into step beside him as they made their way out of the administration building and across a grassed area. Cadet Torres last official act had been to resign her position formally. She could guess why the man at her side had been required to enter. Quarters for service personnel were on the edge of the campus and apportioned from this location. The Lieutenant's temporary apartment, if it could truly be called that, was a single room, suitable for infrequent and expedient habitation.

"I know it's not much," Tom snickered at her reaction, placing her box on the couch. He'd seen many just like it on shore leave. The truth be told, it was better than Ensign's quarters, which were shared with another junior officer. Only once he'd reached Lieutenant junior grade was he allocated a private room.

"But you don't intend to be here all that often," B'Elanna retorted, crossing arms over her chest defensively. Small it might be, but he didn't need to share. Rooming with another cadet had been the bane of her existence.

"Nope," he responded. "I'm going to get out of this uniform, then we can explore the Wharf area. It's one of my all time favourites. We'll be able to catch the sunset over the water if we leave soon. I've missed that, being in space the last two and a half years."

Suddenly feeling apprehensive, B'Elanna wondered how to get out of this situation. Not that she had anywhere to go and little money to spare. Taking in a deep breath, she prepared to run. Only his smell hit her, as did the meaning of being able to distinguish an individuals sent.

 _I'm in trouble_ , B'Elanna suddenly panicked. The room felt constricting and she had to flee before he came near her.

"Hey," Tom felt the sudden change in atmosphere. "Look, if you want to leave, I won't stop you. You really are doing me a big favour by hanging around."

Caught, B'Elanna's eyes became round. She looked like a deer trapped in oncoming headlights. Her heart's pounded in her chest, she felt all three lungs on the verge of hyperventilating and her stomachs threatened to rebel.

"Crap," Tom swore under his breath. Rushing across the room, he grabbed her and hauled her to the couch. Placing her head between her knees helped with the rapid breathing. "You need to draw in slow breaths and exhale even more deliberately."

"What, you're a doctor now," B'Elanna heard the tension and fear in her tone.

"That would be my eldest sister," Tom teased easily. "You can't grow up in a household with a potential doctor and not learn a few things. That's it," he encouraged, "use that sardonic humour you've shown on me. I really don't mind being the but of your jokes, if it brings out a smile."

"Does anything except avoiding your family bother you?" B'Elanna fumed. She knew the question was neither fair nor appropriate the moment it exited her mouth.

Shrugging, he continued to watch her carefully, kneeling at her feet. A strange, puzzled look crossed his face, as if he was trying to figure her out. Giving up, he sat back on his heals.

"Does anything not bother you?" Tom parried. That brought B'Elanna's eyes up to meet his. "The real reason I asked you to share a meal," he confessed, "I didn't think you had anyone to turn to or anywhere to go. We're not so different, Cadet, for very different reasons."

"B'Elanna," she gulped, offering an olive branch. Not quite understanding why, she trusted this man. "My name is B'Elanna Torres."

"Tom Paris," he held out his hand. "It's nice to finally be introduced to you Ms. Torres. Now, how about you replicate something other than that uniform, on Starfleet of course, and we can get out of here. I'm sure I'm as eager to blow this place as you are."

Nodding, B'Elanna waited until he collected his clothing and disappeared into the apartments personal hygiene area, before shrugging out of her backpack. There was a dress she'd acquired in her first semester, when she'd been dating Max Burke. It was the dress she'd been going to wear the night she intended to let him seduce her. Only B'Elanna found out all the weeks of caution hadn't been for nothing. Max only wanted the bragging rights of being the first Cadet to bed a Klingon. If she'd had sex with him, it would have been all over campus the next day and B'Elanna would have felt completely humiliated. Since then, she'd ignored every overture, turned down one date after another and generally learnt to distrust the male population.

Closing her eyes and hating herself, B'Elanna knew that situation was about to change. Her Klingon half had caught his sent. He'd proven his strength and courage. So far, he seemed honourable. Tonight, she expected him to act as a perfect gentleman. So far, nothing in his demeanour gave her any apprehension.

 _It's me,_ she suddenly came to the blinding realisation, _that's bothered by Tom. His sense of humour, his honesty and his smell. I've never been affected by anyone in such a Klingon way and I don't like it. It's hard enough having to fight myself day in and day out. Adding a sexual attraction into the mix is driving me mad. The last curse my mother hurtled at me, before I stepped on the transport for Earth, was not to get involved with a human male. Finally I understand the voracious appetite Klingon women have for sex. I just wonder if Tom realises what he's started._

* * *

 _ **AN** :I'm not abve begging. Please tell me what you think. I'm hoping to finish his story before dealing with Moments in Time, which will take place in the moments afte A Wrinkle in Time and go through to Threshold. I have a very special idea for that episode, but more on that later._

 _I'm working on Acts of Courage. That story will be completely diffferent although with a Paris/Torres romantic undertone. It's taking a lot of research as I want to get some of the details correct, especially with regards to crew number, rank and roles. The importance will, eventually, I hope, com through in the story._


	2. Intimacy

**Intimacy: 30** **th** **March 2365**

 **AN:** A big thank you to those who read, fav'ed and reviewed. I'm so glad there is still a readership out there. Also, does anyone know if there are other sites to post?

* * *

"You clean up alright," Tom's breath caught as he took in the sight before him.

Something made the compliment that would normally roll off his tongue like teflon stick in his throat. He knew Torres wouldn't appreciate being told she looked beautiful. An instant wariness clouded her eyes, as if she couldn't, or more likely wouldn't accept the admiration as her due, as the truth. Yet that red dress accentuated her colouring. The skirt skimmed her knees showing just enough leg to be enticing, the capped sleeve covered her to the elbow and the neck line proved to be just the other side of modest. It was demure, feminine and dam sexy at the same time, demonstrating just enough and leaving the rest to Tom Paris's very active imagination.

"But," she almost growled, feeling his hesitancy as he casually lent against the doorway of the personal hygiene area. B'Elanna knew this dress looked good on her and brought out her athletic figure honed by hours of decathlon training. What she couldn't understand was the expression of confusion when he should feel attraction at the very least. Her Klingon half was impressed by Tom's ability to resist her overtures, while her human side hurt because he didn't appreciate the effort she'd made.

"It's going to be cool down by the wharf when the wind comes in," he explained easily, allowing an appreciative grin to cover his lips. "I didn't think you enjoyed the cooler climates."

"What makes you think that," B'Elanna challenged. Once again her anger surfaced, making her defiant and provoking the man standing before her. Somewhere in all this posturing, she knew the Klingon side agreed with his assessment, which caused a shiver of desire to lodge in the pit of her stomachs. He was being honourable, a perfect human gentleman. A Klingon male would be reading poetry. Somewhere in her mind, it equated to the same.

"The way you held your hands under your armpits on the way from the administration building," Paris couldn't contain the burst of sudden laughter at her expression of complete skepticism. Obviously Torres expected a very different answer."Beside's, it rains almost half the days in March, so you're going to need a water proof if we're caught out in the open."

"Why would we be in the open," she questioned, bewildered by his attitude and practicality. This really wasn't going as B'Elanna expected, he wasn't behaving in the way she'd been lead to believe human males acted when faced with a Klingon woman secreting pheromones.

"Because," Tom drew out the word as he moved toward the replicator, "Fisherman's Wharf is meant for walking, taking in the scenery and enjoying atmosphere. Beside, the best place to watch the sunset is from the Maritime National Historical Park."

"Like that explains everything," B'Elanna muttered under her breath.

"In your two years at the academy, you sure didn't get out much," Paris's blue eyes pieced her exterior to really look at the young woman below. What he saw softened his approach. She wasn't anything like the women he usually dated. They'd been around the block a time or two and knew the score. A date, a great night of consensual sex and then a I'll call you when I'm back in port which will probably be never. This, well, girl was equal parts hostility, insecurity, hurt and sexy as hell.

 _And she's off limits to the likes of you, Paris._ Tom berated himself. _Just take her out for a great night, show her your town, let her take the bed while you sleep on that short and uncomfortable looking couch. In the morning, you can speak with some people and see what you can do about her future. It's as plain as the that very Klingon nose on her face she has no where to go, no one to turn to and little in the way of prospects. Right now she needs a friend and that's exactly what you're going to be. You're going to show her a great time and keep your libido firmly in your pants, Paris._

"What are you thinking," B'Elanna became intrigued by the rapid expressions crossing his face. It seemed he'd been fighting an internal war and finally came to a conclusion.

"I grew up around here, it was impossible not to with Starfleet Headquarters located in San Fransisco," Tom started, wondering why he chose to bring up his mostly unhappy childhood, "and my father's promotion to Admiral when I turned six."

"You took your father's survival class," she asked, shocked.

"Let's just say I didn't have a choice. Dear old dad made sure of that," he almost spat. Not wanting to speak of his family and spoil the atmosphere, Tom eyed Torres figure and guessed her size. Picking out a pattern and colour that would suit her dress, he ordered a medium weight rain jacket and umbrella. "Here," he handed her the items, returning his attention to the replicator and generating a lighter and much lager size for himself. "I'd say we're ready to go. If we don't leave soon, we'll miss the sunset and I've been waiting for a long time."

"Why?" The question came out before B'Elanna could filter it. Yet she really wanted to know how this most complicated man thought.

"Tradition," Tom smirked, then in one of his rapid changes of mood, he sighed. "It was something mom and I use to do when I was a kid. Dad was away, a lot. My sister's are ten years older, so they were busy with boyfriends or their studies."

"It was just the two of you," B'Elanna spoke quietly when Tom became lost in his memories.

Smirking, he directed her towards the door, closed it and started down the hallway before speaking again. "It seemed that way sometimes. Then dad would come home and the girls would beam over from the Academy with their man of the week and it would be all happy families again. For a while at least."

Torres let him remember and watched his reactions to the memories. She could almost see the changing emotions, displayed so subtlety in his eyes. Tom guided her into the lift, out onto the Academy grounds and through the front entrance without once touching her. Thankful for the jacket, she immediately put it on which drew a pleased smile from her companion.

"Cold," he asked mockingly, those eyes glistening with uninhibited delight.

"Where did you go," B'Elanna couldn't help the question accompanying her puzzled expression. "Just now, you were lost to the world around you."

"It's been a long time since I've been in San Fransisco," Tom commented easily, yet he couldn't slip back into that brash, overconfident personality he usually wore when someone tried to get to close. He knew only the truth would do in this situation, that Torres would know if he covered up his painful past. "I guess its bringing up more memories than I want to recall."

"Going home can do that," she whispered uncomfortably.

"Ever taken the Tranz-Fran," Tom changed the subject with a sudden grin. Somehow he knew Torres didn't want to think about her life before the Academy or discuss her history either. He just knew it was as painful for her as it was for him.

Shaking her head, B'Elanna knew tonight would mark a lot of firsts. Heading east, they found an entrance to the subway system. Tom didn't even stop to look at the holographic map. He knew exactly were he was going and directed them towards the platform with a happy smile at her wide eyed expression. Within a few minutes they were ensconced on a high speed mega-grav train headed towards the west coast.

"Just take it all in, Torres," he lent close and whispered into her ear as they sped along the underground tract. "This is the real San Fransisco, the world outside Starfleet."

People filled the car, getting on and off at each station. Their dress was eclectic, their conversation mundane and their lives lived in a monotony of normality. Tom's breath, so close to her ear, and the warmth of his body increased her Klingon senses. Yet Tom Paris didn't leer at her, or use his height to tower over her. He kept a respectful distance and seemed amused by her responce to everything and everyone.

 _He really doesn't know what he's doing to me_ , B'Elanna thought, trying to keep her reactions internalised.

They popped up at a station on Hyde Street near the outskirts of Russian Hill. Tom began to explain the history of the area and point out the amazing view over the waterfront. Much to B'Elanna surprise, she enjoyed listening to the lesson in his deep voice, filled with excitement and humour. On occasion she asked questions which were answered immediately. Until Tom directed her across the road but stopped suddenly in the centre of the old fashioned pavement.

"What," she demanded after a few moments standing in the middle of the street on a slightly raised platform, "are we waiting for."

"Patience, Torres," Tom grinned like a kid offered something extremely enticing. "Use that intelligence of your's and listen."

Then she heard it. The ringing of a bell. Over the top of the hill came a, well, B'Elanna didn't quite know what it was.

"Twentieth century at it's best. It's called a tram and we're going to take it down the hill to the park. When we get there, we'll cop a squat and watch the sun go down," he explained with that lop sided grin, his body vibrating with excitement.

"I'm not even going to try to understand half of what you just said," B'Elanna shook her head in amusement.

Following Tom onto the tram, they sat side by side. He'd allowed her to take the seat closest to the window, leaning over her shoulder and continuing her history lesson as they descended towards the water. Listening to his voice, surrounded by his smell and body heat, B'Elanna couldn't remember another time she'd felt so safe and respected. Turning, their foreheads were mere centimetres apart, it wouldn't take much to lean in and kiss him. That's when she noticed the dark blue shirt and how it enhanced the amazing colour in his sparkling eyes.

"You don't scrub up so bad yourself, Lieutenant," B'Elanna whispered, sending her hearts into a rapid beat and that feeling in the pit of her stomachs to increase tenfold.

He laughed, whole heartedly. "It took you long enough to notice, Torres," Tom teased. "Come on, this is our stop. We'll walk from here."

They were in time to see the sun begin it's decent into the western sky. Taking its time as they sat in companionable silence on a bench, the orb finally hit the watery horizon. The colours in the sky changed, turning darker in the east but displaying an amazing assortment of pink, yellow and orange as the ball of fiery gas finally bade the world goodnight.

"There's nothing like watching a sunset over the water," Tom sighed. Standing abruptly, he went to reach for B'Elanna's hand. Remembering his earlier self-imposed promise, he held it only long enough to help her upright. "Feel like walking for a while?"

She nodded, not willing to say anything lest she break the moment. For just an instant B'Elanna was sure Tom meant to hold her hand. Watching other young couples, they seemed unselfconscious in their affection for each other. Many strolled along, holding each other in more intimate embraces. Without thinking, she brushed against his arm, feeling the fission of attraction arrowing to her chest. Glancing up at him to gage his reaction, Tom looked startled. It caused B'Elanna to giggle.

"What," he looked bewildered.

"I'm nineteen years of age, Tom," B'Elanna couldn't help the smile. "I'm hardly a child that needs protection, or for you to act like my parent. I'm here because I want to be."

Nodding, he really looked at B'Elanna. She might be tiny by Klingon standards and feel petite against his tall frame, but she wasn't a child. Still, he didn't want to break his self appointed task of showing her a good time, when it was obvious she was missing out on all those normal activities he'd experienced by the same age. Suddenly Lt. Thomas Paris felt every one of his twenty four years.

"I know," he stated evenly. Then with a sigh of frustration, Tom Paris closed his eyes and muttered, "believe me, I know." Paris could feel the woman at his side bristling, so he opened his lids and watched her carefully as he deliver his own ultimatum. "If the situation were different, I might even take up what you're offering, Torres. Tonight, you need a friend more than a hotshot pilot who's been cooped up on a starship for six months without shore leave. No," he put a finger on her lips before she answered. Tom could see the righteous anger gathering in her chocolate orbs. "I'm not going to be just another male who wants to take advantage of you and you're just going to have to live with that."

"Why," B'Elanna demanded, shocking with her next words, "do you keep calling me Torres?"

That caused Tom to laugh, hard and long. "Because if I think of you as Torres, I'll be able to keep my mind on being your friend."

Sighing, he took her small hand in his. It looked so delicate and exotically dark against his larger, pale flesh. A concession, Lt. Paris knew, but he'd double his efforts to be on guard for the rest of the evening. _I am not going to allow further intimacy between us,_ his mind affirmed, _and prove every belief B'Elanna has about human males. I'm better than that and she deserves a hell of a lot more respect._

They walked around in silence for a half hour, neither willing to break into their personal introspections. As the park disappeared behind them and the streets became more crowed with tourists, Tom was glad he had grabbed B'Elanna's hand. They were in danger of being separated.

"Is it always this busy?" B'Elanna asked, looking around in wonderment.

"Yes," Tom grinned. "Every person that comes to San Fransisco has to visit the Wharf district. It's an institution. Some of these buildings have been here for centuries. They even survived the great quake and numerous wars."

"What's this?" B'Elanna pointed to a quaint restaurant with hinged doors, planter boxes and shutters in brightly coloured wood.

"The Buena Vista," Tom smiled. "It opened in 1916 and has been here ever since. It's an icon. When I was finally able to consume alcohol legally, Mom brought me here for my first drink. Come on, you have to try the Irish Coffee, I don't think I've tasted better anywhere in the galaxy. The foods not bad either, but we might not get a table."

Stepping into the rustic restaurant, noise greeted the young couple. A convivial atmosphere poured out of the dining room, filled to capacity with happily chatting customers. People were waiting at the bar, serviced by a real bartender. Before them, a line of four or five parties waited for an opening, proving the eateries popularity.

"Tom," a striking blond approached from the head of the line. "I didn't know you were in port."

"Kathy," Paris nodded his head at the woman. He'd been blindsided, busy watching Torres reaction to the unique experience.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your…" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm while her eyes stated the girl was far to young.

Not waisting words, Tom offered, "B'Elanna, Kathy Johnston."

"Lt. Commander Kathy Johnston," she corrected, holding out her hand. "Chief Medical Officer on _Archer_."

"Please to meet you, Ma'am," B'Elanna initial reaction was tempered anger. Tom was hers only she'd not taken the time to mark him. Then she looked between the pair and noticed the similarities. Obviously they were related but there was little love lost between them.

"Are you an Ensign serving with Tom," the woman hunted. Then her eyes narrowed, "or a cadet. Really, Tom, I expect better from you. What will Dad say when he finds out?"

"Dad knows I'm in town," Tom hissed, "he and mom were at my promotion ceremony today."

"Really, full Lieutenant. It's taken you long enough," the blond smirked.

"We can't all have your good luck," he return ironically.

"I spoke with mother just the other day," Kathy levelled a quelling glance at the young man, "when we met for lunch. She didn't tell me you had leave. Then again, I can see why you're not all that interested in going home. I hope you're not going to try and your shirk responsibilities on his furrow."

"No, Ma'am," Tom grinned but the humour didn't reach his eyes.

"Good, it's about time you and dad sat down and actually talked," the woman glared. "Don and I are leaving next week when _Archer_ get out of spacedoc. Elizabeth's home from Vulcan and finally engaged to Gerrick. Their wedding is set for next year when they'll return to live on Earth. Steph's finishing up her maternity leave. She's managed a posting to _Galaxy_ so she can take the kids and her husband. She's a full Commander and the first officer. This must be the first time in three or four years the entire Paris clan is together. Mom will want to have a big, old fashioned family dinner."

"I hardly need to go home," Tom's expression became bland, "since you've filled me in on all the important details. I see Captain Johnston signalling. It looks like your party is ready to go through, Kathy."

"Mum misses you," the blond threw over her shoulder. The look stated he'd better not disappoint the matriarch of the family, or he'd have her to deal with.

"And I though my family were dysfunctional," B'Elanna rolled her eyes. When he didn't answer immediately, Torres muttered under her breath, "I always wanted a sibling, but if that's the result, I'm happy to remain an only child."

"Let's just say, _**all**_ my sister's take after Dad," Tom answered, his tone hurt and those ever expressive eyes once again dulled by the confrontation.

"Where as you take after you mother," B'Elanna offered, understanding so much about this man from the confrontation. "Come on, we can find somewhere else to eat."

"I'm not going to let my sister and brother-in-law chase me away," the tone changed to determination.

"Well she scares hell out of me," B'Elanna offered, "and I've only just been introduced."

"Torres, I doubt anything would scare the hell out of you," Tom finally found his humour.

"You'd be surprised, Lieutenant," she offered in a soft tone. "Most day's it took effort just to survive the academy."

"Come on," he grabbed her elbow, cutting through the crowd behind them. "I know a great place close to the pier. Do you like seafood?"

"As long as it's not crawling across the plate or looking at me," she teased. "Maybe later we can come back for one of those famous Irish Coffee's this place is renowned for."

"You're on, Torres," Tom chuckled. "Only your going to have to lie about your age."

* * *

 **AN** : This night's not over for a intrepid couple. I hope you're still enjoying.


	3. Twenty Questions

**Twenty Questions: 30** **th** **March 2365**

"All right, Torres," Tom held in his mocking smile, just. They were seated at a small café on the waterfront. He'd chosen the meal, a seafood platter for sharing. It seemed the most logical choice as he didn't know B'Elanna's likes very well at this point. Their relationship only hours old, it would give her plenty of selection. So far she attempted every delicacy on the plate and seemed to be enjoying the unusual culinary delight. "Spit it out!"

Looking up, eyes wide, her hand stopped midway between the platter and her mouth.

Unable to hold in the chuckle bubbling away at the back of his throat, Tom shook his head. "What is it you want to know?"

"Is your sister always such a," pausing, a scowl covered B'Elanna's face as she considered her next word very carefully, "qoH."

That bought out a full bodied laugh, attracting the attention from the tables on either side. Managing to overcome his mirth, Paris found the Klingon word suited his rather conceited sister very well. "Kathy, in many ways she's fooled herself into thinking she has the ultimate life, and is slowly coming to the realisation that its not what she really wants" he answered easily. "Steph's her twin and about as different as possible even though their identical. They were really tight until a few years ago. I remember Lizzy and I suffering at their hands when we were kids. Being a girl, Lizzy sometimes sided with them, discretion being the better part of valour and all that. Before you ask, if any of my sisters are more like Mom than Dad, it's Elizabeth. My turn."

"What do you mean?" B'Elanna asked, suddenly both afraid she knew what was coming and infuriated Tom would violate her personal boundaries so easily. "Just because you want to share, doesn't mean I have too."

Shaking his head mournfully and allowing his eyes to become clouded, Tom frowned comically. "Torres, how can I get to know you if you don't say anything? You're like a closed book."

"Maybe I don't what to be read," she responded with spite, crossing her arms over her chest for protection.

"Hump," Tom made the noise then copied her posture. It made him seem belligerent, even obstructive. "I can see why no one told you about ol' Sneezy's class if this was your reaction."

The words hurt, but they had been delivered with such a mixture of teasing and concern, B'Elanna felt ashamed. She'd always let her Klingon anger have free reign. Never had anyone showed her how it felt to have them shoved back in her face.

"I propose a little game," Tom watched her, his orbs suddenly glittering with amusement as his body language calmed, "called twenty questions. You ask me something, I have to give you an open and honest answer, then I get a turn. We keep playing until we've each asked twenty questions or agree the games over."

Not sure she liked the idea but intrigued enough to want to understand the man sitting on the other side of the table, B'Elanna nodded hesitantly. This might not be the physical sparing she wanted from him, but the mental stimulation seemed to be having the same effect on her Klingon hormones. She knew his sense of integrity would force his answers to be both complete and truthful. She hadn't agreed to be so open and there were limits she'd place on the information imparted. Still, leaning in, she caught the slightest trace of his sent and knew she'd do whatever it took to complete their bonding tonight. If this pleased Tom Paris, B'Elanna Torres could go along with it.

"I go first," B'Elanna stated, understanding her tone had become hard and her orbs glittered with the heat of battle.

"No fair, Torres," Tom continued to smirk, proving he'd expected her reaction. "You've already had one question."

B'Elanna crossed her arms and glared. "We're starting now and I get to go first."

"Okay," Tom whistled teasingly, "how can I argue with that?"

"You said your mother brought you here," B'Elanna started. She was almost warned off by the sudden closing of all expression on Tom's face. Something in the confrontation with his sister made her continue the question. "Why's this place so important to you?"

"Truth, I haven't spoken to my father since I shipped out as an Ensign three years ago," Tom managed, his voice low and deep as he recalled some of the words spoken between them. He needed to tell Torres a little of his family history for her to truly understand his answer. "I've only ever wanted to be a pilot, something dad never understood. He's all about career, micromanaging my sister's postings to get them exposed to the right people and situations. Mom," stopping, Paris's eyes became unfocused. Choosing an item off the platter, he chewed the morsel and swallowed before continuing, "she had a different way of encouraging me. Dad would scream about doing my homework while Mom sat down and explained the consequences and then let me make up my own mind. Coming here, I fell close to her because this was always my reward for making the right choice."

"You really don't want to go to that Paris dinner, do you?" B'Elanna understood more than she'd ever let on. She been coerced to attend a Torres family meal only once and wouldn't do it again unless forced. As to that summer spent on Qo'noS, in the company of her Klingon relatives, it was an event she never wanted to experience again. She didn't fit in either world, being only half Klingon and half human. Neither wanted to acknowledge the unique individual.

"No," Tom stated, his eyes locking onto the woman across the table. The subtle expressions demonstrated the depth of her understanding. _Torres has as much family baggage as I do. I'll have to be very careful in my approach_ , Paris realised.

The silence that descended gave both parties time to analyse their own thoughts and consider how the other must be feeling. Picking up his wine glass, Tom watched Torres follow suit. He'd swear she'd never drunk in her life before, which begged the question, what had her family taught her about the real world. Two years at the academy and she didn't seem to have friends or get out like the other Cadets. There was so much he needed to know about the woman that was B'Leanna Torres if he had any chance of helping her find a solution to her current problems, being a job and somewhere to live.

"Which parents Klingon and what's the other?" Tom requested softly, gently breaking the silence. He'd decided to start slowly, with the easy questions he knew she'd answer succinctly.

"Mother, Fathers human," B'Elanna stated easily, wondering how long he'd let her get away with such blunt replies. "Tell me about Kathy."

"That's not a question, Torres, but I'll give you the response your looking for." Tom frowned, his fingers reaching for the glass before him, swirling the crisp white liquid and watching the motion carefully. It gave him time to formulate an answer and make some startling realisations about his sisters. "Kathy's almost forty, she's reached a ceiling on _Archer_ and families not an option with a husband who refuses to give up active duty, unless she moves back home and becomes a single parent house wife. With my Dad managing her career, that's not an option. Kathy could post back to Starfleet medical on Earth to further her career but I'm not sure her husband would willingly give up his Captaincy. Steph, on the other hand, has it all. Four kids, a non-fleet house husband and a career that's advancing. From what Kathy said tonight, she's even managed to become first officer on a generation ship, which means the kids will grow up with their parents away from dear old Dad. They get by on her commission and couldn't be happier. Although at some point they plan to go back to Trill and see if the kids want to be hosts. Jaboban chose not to accept a symbiont."

"Kathy's jealous of her twin sister," B'Elanna asked, astounded. She'd never heard of Trill and wondered what Tom meant by symbiont and host. Even though it intrigued her on a completely different level, Torres wanted to pin down Paris and the continuing sadness caused by meeting his family. _Besides_ , she considered, _I have another eighteen questions and I'm sure I could get Tom to continue to play this game all night if I tried._

"No," that forced Tom's eyes to his companions and a wicked smile to his lips. "Kathrine and Stephanie have remained connected in the last couple of years, they just aren't as close as they once were. I think Kathy's envious because Steph's achieved everything she ever wanted. So, my turn, where are your parents?"

"Mother Qo'noS, Father unknown," B'Elanna almost spat the words.

"I let you get away with a three word answer the first time," Tom's expression was playful, yet there was an edge that stated she wasn't living up to her end of the bargain. Paris would never let Torres know, but this information would go a long way in helping find her a future when he made enquiries tomorrow.

"My father left Kessik IV when I was five," B'Elanna offered begrudgingly. Yet that look, one of understanding, compassion and intrigue made her draw in a deep breath. Suddenly his sent was in her nostrils and she wanted his taste on her tongue. The only way to convince Tom Paris involved playing his game. Giving a very Klingon growl of appreciation at this unusual form of foreplay, Torres formulated her answer carefully. "One day he was there, the next he was gone. My mother brought me to Earth when I was nine. I never saw them together. I think they must have tried to patch up their relationship but finished up officially ending it. Dad planned a camping trip with my cousins so we could spent time together. It was a disaster. It's the last time I ever saw him. After that my mother tried to make me into a good little Klingon. She even took me to Qo'noS for a the summer before I escaped to the Academy."

"Tough break," Tom agreed, a softness entering his expression. "Sometimes I wonder if life would have been different if Mom had left Dad and it was just the two of us."

"I thought it was my turn to ask," B'Elanna broke in, her tone gentle and expression captivated.

Shrugging, Tom offered easily, "I kinda thought you did."

"Are your parents still together?" B'Elanna asked.

"Yes," he offered another sarcastic smirk. "I have no idea why, but Mom loves him, truly and deeply. She taught all of us that taking a vow of marriage is something to hold very dear and never to be broken. I think that's why Kathy stays with Johnston, even though she's not happy, but neither Mom nor Katherine would ever leave their husbands. Don't worry, my parents have had their arguments but they never go long without making up. At some deep level they connect on a plain I can't even begin to understand," Tom said, finally realising the depth of the bond as he never had before. "Enough depressing stuff, what was your major at the Academy?"

"Engineering, specifically propulsion systems," B'Elanna finally felt comfortable with this line of enquiry.

As if Tom understood B'Elanna was done speaking of her childhood, he kept the conversation lite for the rest of the evening. Their questions continued as they picked the plate between them clean and upended the bottle of wine. Together they uncovered so much about the character of person sitting opposite. The meal consumed, Tom uncovered Torres unbridled delight at anything chocolate when he offered dessert. Watching as B'Elanna devoured the confection, licking the last drops from her spoon and lips, Tom Paris suddenly felt the need needed to get out of the stifling intimate atmosphere, before he broke his self appointed promise.

B'Elanna felt the change and appreciated Tom's effort to remain a gentleman in the sexually charged atmosphere she'd deliberately created, especially as they walked back to The Buena Vista, hand in hand. She knew Tom considered her naïve and sheltered and, in someways, his assumptions were correct. However, her Klingon heritage, and that summer dining of gah and blood wine, gave B'Elanna a greater tolerance for alcoholic beverages and an understanding of the Klingon sexual appetite. An understanding she'd used subtly over the evening to capture her chosen prey.

They stopped for an Irish coffee before heading back to the Academy. Even with the waterproof, B'Elanna shivered when she stepped outside the restaurant. It was only partially the cold, the rest came from her increasing need to taste the man at her side. Her hated Klingon genes were slowly taking over. She knew they needed to make it back to the apartment before she could initiate anything.

"We'll take the Tran-Franz from here," Tom watched the woman at his side shiver violently the moment they exited The Buena Vista. The temperature had dropped significantly and it seemed to be affecting her. "On second thoughts, I need to get you back to the apartment. Come on, there's a public transporter station a block away. My rank will allow us a site to site. Do you think you can make it?"

With the thoughts running through her head, B'Elanna knew it was going to be a close call.

 **AN** : This one's a little shorter than the pervious chapter but has got me to the point I needed. I hope to have the next part up soon. A note of warning, there is no graphic detail, in fact the physically intimate moments will occur off camera.


	4. The Morning After

**The Morning after: 31** **st** **March**.

 **AN** :Max2013, I think you'll enjoy this chapter. While there is a very small amount of descriptive intimacy, the _**real**_ action occurs off camera. For those wanting something more revealing, I learnt, a long time ago, writing bedroom scenes is not my forte.

* * *

B'Elanna watched Tom sleep. His sent, still so exciting to her libido, began a pleasant ache in her stomachs as his smell surrounded her. The bed, the coverings and her skin all retained the unique essence that was her lover. Tom Paris been everything she could have wished for last night, rough but gentle, understanding then demanding, responsive yet allowing her to set the pace. For her first experience, B'Elanna doubted it could have been better. Then again, they'd gone at it for several hours and undoubtedly annoyed the neighbours. The thought brought a smile to her lips.

B'Elanna still hadn't marked him, well she hadn't drawn blood. A very subtle imprint of her teeth was visible as a slight bruise on his cheek, if you looked closely. She wanted to reach our and touch the spot but knew he'd wake if she did. Beside, B'Elanna was enjoying the guilty pleasure of watching him in slumber. There would be time enough to claim him later.

Tom had appeared shocked and concerned when they'd been beamed directly into the small apartment last night. His eyes widened when B'Elanna threw off the waterproof and kicked her shoes in the same direction. Taking her shoulders in his large, warm hands, Tom tried to direct her towards the personal hygiene room and a hot shower to stop her uncontrollable shivering. He hadn't been prepared for her resistance, or the growl of need finally issuing from her throat. Initially shocked with her aggressiveness, he'd looked deeply into her eyes and realised what was about to occur.

"Your sure, Torres," Tom questioned. He'd kept his hands to himself all night. Half a bottle of wine and the shot in the Irish coffee wasn't enough to crush his scruples where this woman was concerned.

"B'Elanna," she growled, taking his lips in a searing kiss before pulling slightly away. "My name is B'Elanna. Don't forget it." She'd mumbled something else in Klingon the universal translator hadn't caught as she pulled at the blue shirt covering his chest. She needed to be close, to capture his sent and feel his soft skin under her marauding fingers. The buttons scattered to all corner of the room as her skin finally contacted his and his unique smell hit her olfactory nerves.

Tom Paris took a moment to gaze deeply into her eyes. For indeterminable seconds or minutes they stayed that way, each locked in the other's gaze. Finally Tom came to the conclusion that B'Elanna really wanted this to occur. In a blinding flash of understanding, he recognised the unusual and distinctive foreplay they continued from almost the first moment of meeting. Then he was lost her Klingon pheromones.

Smiling, B'Elanna remembered the one incident that proved shocking to the both of them. At a critical time, she felt a sudden tearing, causing a moments discomfort. Discovering she had a very human Hyman led the poor man to panic, and embarrassed B'Elanna's Klingon genes.

 _Why_? She wondered, closing her eyes and sighing deeply, _did I manage to get that part of the human reproductive system but two Klingon hearts, stomachs and three lungs._

"Morning," Tom's blue eyes zeroed on the woman lounging above him. Feeling B'Elanna's scrutiny, he woken to a quizzical expression on her face. It worried him. Never wanting things to get as far as they had, even Paris had to admit they'd been very compatible. "How long have you been up?"

"Not as long as you," she smiled, reaching under the covers and ensuring he was ready for round two.

"Hey," not exactly pushing her away, but looking concerned, "you didn't tell me, that is, I didn't think to ask," lost for words the cocky pilot was adorable as he tripped over his words.

"Didn't know," B'Elanna stated with a shrug. "That's the problem with being a hybrid."

"Really," shocked, Tom watched her carefully. He knew the moment B'Elanna's eyes filled with passion and the instant his returned her desire. Letting Torres take the lead this time, Paris knew it would be hours before they got out of bed.

"Replicate yourself a swimsuit," Tom ordered when B'Elanna finally exited the shower. Standing at the small kitchenette along one wall of the apartment, a boxy silver object seemed to be the focus of his attention. It might not be breakfast time in San Fransisco but his stomach growled. They stayed in bed almost all day, only getting up half an hour ago. Suddenly something looking like burnt squares popped out the top. Chuckling at B'Elanna's expression, Paris indicated, "toaster, it cooks toast. Something from the twentieth Century. Come on, I'll treat you to an extraordinary meal. I replicated peanut butter and jelly, the best breakfast food in the world."

"Thank's," B'Elanna sniffed, pulling Tom's blue, buttonless shirt across her chest, "but I think I'll pass. Besides, it's almost dinner time."

"Come on, B'Elanna," Tom teased, "live a little."

Shaking her head, Torres attempted the gooey looking concoction. It wasn't as bad as it looked. "Too sweet," she handed it back.

"This from a woman who devoured some sickly sugar dessert last night," he joked, cocking an eyebrow. Sending the man an evil glare, Tom put his hands in the air as if surrendering. "Okay, just replicate something, and don't forget a bathing suit. We're going out," Tom announced, stuffing a bite into his mouth.

"Where," B'Elanna turned her face towards the man.

"It's a surprise, Torres," he smirked.

"I don't like surprises," B'Elanna scowled, sitting at the tiny table with a bowel of what looked and smelled like oatmeal. "And I thought we sorted out my name last night."

"I never would have guessed, B'Elanna," Tom deliberately accentuated her name, "that you didn't like surprises. Look, you've never done half the things the cadets at the academy have. It's time you lived a little, experienced all you should have."

"And you're going to show me the error of my ways," she returned blandly.

"I'm going to try," Tom sighed. "If you really don't want to go out, that's fine."

"Sorry," Torres let her head fall so he couldn't see her eyes. One thing B'Elanna never did was apologise. Yet she knew she'd hurt him with her belligerence. "I'm not use to people being nice to me."

"Or doing anything for you without expectation," Tom approached the small table and took the opposite seat. "B'Elanna, last night, well, I tried to be your friend. I still want to be your friend, if you'll let me. We could have a great time and staying here with me will give you some breathing room to get your future sorted out."

Nodding, she finished her meal, then replicated said swimsuit. If they were going in the water, she hoped Tom chose somewhere warm. He was acting like a kid, packing a bag, changing into summer clothing and shrugging into his waterproof. Sending him a questioning glare, the man-child simply grinned back and stated they needed to walk to the transporter station. Regretting her decision already, that changed the moment they stepped off the outdoor transporter pad.

"Where," B'Elanna's eye drank in the golden sand stretching out before them. The sun shone low on the horizon, stating it was mid morning in this location. In the distance crystal clear water crashed gently onto the shore. People were everywhere, lazing on towels laid out on the sand, in the water and strolling along the path lined with some kind of pine tree.

"Manly Beach, Sydney, Australia," Tom grinned. "Come on B'Elanna, I think its warm enough for even you."

Grabbing her hand, Tom lead them down to the beach. Selecting a spot a few metres from the surf break, they ran into the water after discarding their excessive clothing. By two in the afternoon, they'd tired of the sand and waves. Using the public hygiene facilities, they cleaned up and redressed.

"Hungry," Tom asked. Before B'Elanna could express her disinclination for him once again buying their meal, her stomachs growled menacingly. "Good." Leaning in, Tom proved he'd read her expression. "Don't worry, Torres. I just got a pay rise. Besides I've had nothing and no one to spend anything on the last six months."

"I feel," she sighed, not able to finish the sentence.

"Hey, I needed an excuse to avoid dear old Dad for another day," Tom smiled yet the expression didn't reach his eyes. "If I play my cards right, I might lucky for the next month."

"Don't push your luck, Paris," B'Elanna stated.

They arrived back at the Academy in the early hours of the morning. Tom wanted B'Elanna to beam directly to the apartment. "I'll join you in half an hour," he offered in explanation giving directions to the pad operator. He should have known better. Torres wouldn't move without a reason. Pulling them out of the line for the transporter, he stated, "I have to go via sickbay."

"Why," immediately B'Elanna scrutinised the man standing before her. She knew her Klingon strength was enough to hurt a human without trying. This afternoon, frolicking in the surf, she'd let Tom know what was in stall when the returned to his quarters. They'd continued to flirt over lunch. Sydney's nine hour time difference meant it was their evening meal in San Fransisco.

"Have you accessed your right to contraception," Paris whispered in her ear. The sudden startled expression in B'Elanna's orbs gave away the answer. "Well, mines due and we are not going to make good on the promises you made this afternoon without me going via sickbay and making sure there won't be any consequences."

"Then I'm going with you," B'Elanna had that expression and stood with her hands fisted on her hips. They might have been together a little over a day, but Tom knew the stance already. He simply nodded and gave in easily.

"Lt. Paris," the duty doctor eyed the young man carefully, "is your sexual partner always this, rough!"

"I'm half Klingon," the woman on the opposite biobed stated with a growl.

Watching the interaction between the pair, he knew the subtle bruising on Tom's cheek might be the least of Lt. Paris's future injuries. He hadn't realised they'd come as a couple and the words should have been quiet enough not to be overheard. Managing to stop his eyes rolling, the medic administered the contraceptive. "Am I to gather you wish the same, Mrs. Paris?"

Before B'Elanna could react, Tom stepped in. "I'm exercising my right to have my partner treated while we're living together in the Academy." Thankfully, Torres got the message. As an ex-cadet, she no longer qualified for medical attention unless her significant other was in service.

"I'll need a sample of your DNA," the Doctor stated, passing the medical tircorder over the woman.

"It's on file," B'Elanna ground out, giving her name.

Returning with a hypospray and a PADD, the Doctor injected B'Elanna and handed Tom the electronic device. "You might need the information contained this document, Lt. Paris. Klingon mating practices are more vigorous than most humans are use to. I've also added a morning after contraceptive to your mix, B'Elanna." The Doctor didn't need to state he knew how active they'd been from his examination, or how enthusiastic. Nor did he bother to inform the couple of the Klingon pheromone level currently infusing his sickbay. _Tom Paris will find out the moment the door to his apartment closes. I guarantee he'll be back in the morning with at least one broken bone and several bite marks._


	5. Choices

**Chapter Five**

 **AN** : There will be another 2-4 chapter centred on the relationship between Tom and B'Elanna in San Fransisco. This one will lead into that Paris family dinner. Angst will abound as B'Elanna's Klingon temper gets the better of her. After that, we'll pretty much skip ahead three years. Flashbacks will be offered in the chapters covering how Tom and B'Elanna both meet up again in that seedy bar in the DMZ. I hope you stick around for the entire story.

A huge Thank you to Juddysbuddy, Max2013 and Guest who have been following and reviewing. It's your comments that get my fingers writing. A huge thanks to everyone else who's taken the time to read, fave or follow. It makes an authors day to know your product is being enjoyed by others.

* * *

Tom woke to an empty bed his second morning in San Fransisco. A moment of pure panic subsided as Paris's eyes swept the apartment only to notice B'Elanna's box containing her entire life remained on the couch. It meant she couldn't be far away, or at least had every intention of returning. Sighing at the feelings that particular thought caused, Tom packed his emotions away for later consideration. He didn't want to think about labelling the relationship this early in their acquaintance, even if a small part of his heart and mind cried out it was kismet, or fate, or love at first sight, or divine intervention or whatever B'Elanna wanted to call it.

His heart slowly returning to its normal rhythmic beat from the fright, Tom let his hand feel the sheets where B'Elanna had lain the last two nights. They were tepid, giving the impression she hadn't long left. Initially grinning, Paris felt a sharp pain in his shoulder at the movement. It seemed B'Elanna's very Klingon intentions when they got home translated into consequences for him this morning. Ignoring the tenderness, Paris gazed around the room, only to spy the PADD the doctor issued on the beside cabinet. Scooping it up and grimacing, he staggered from the warmth of the sheets.

"Time to do some reading," he smirked. Paris glanced at the major points while lumbering out of bed completely naked. One of the nicest things about having senior officer quarters was not having to share. _Unless_ , his mind reminded, _you get to choose your roommate and what you get to do with them._

Shaking his head as he ordered a coffee and made toast, Tom's mind turned to his current bedroom partner. Once again his heart and mind threatened to define the relationship. It was so much more than a friendship, yet it was too early to be in love. He admired everything about B'Elanna, then again, he'd not been in a serious relationship since Suzy Crabtree. He'd lost his virginity to the woman at his parents' house when they were away one weekend. They dated the entire first year at the Academy. When she dumped him, Tom almost failed Stellar Cartography after breaking out in hives. Since then, Tom Paris kept his romantic entanglements to assignations, more to scratch a biological itch than start a monogamous relationship. He realised after Suzy, he was a forever kind of guy and steered clear of that level of commitment until he was in a position to offer a real marriage. Sighing at the past, Paris directed his attention to the information scrolling across the PADD's screen and his possible future.

"Looks about right," Tom snickered as he drained the last of his morning coffee and finished the synopsis. Returning the empty cup to the replicators recycling slot, he thoughtfully touched the bite mark on his cheek.

Thomas Paris understood the meaning, now. B'Elanna had marked him, warning away other women and it tickled his ego. Showering and changing into his uniform, Tom expected Torres to have returned. When she didn't, he recorded a quick message for her, coded it to play when she entered the apartment and left to officially add B'Elanna as an occupant in his life. It would open a can of worms he'd rather not but he wanted to give her breathing room to make good decisions about the rest of her life, and a protective environment to come to her own conclusions.

 _It will make applying to partnered quarter's on future postings easier,_ his traitorous mind stated, _if Starfleet already sees you as a couple._

With that thought, Tom left his apartment in a hurry. However much he wanted to, the day proved he couldn't outrun the conclusion his heart and mind were beginning to insist upon. Like it or not, Lt. Paris's first mission was another appointment with sickbay. The throbbing in his left shoulder had become painful and he knew it needed attention.

One look at the bite mark on his cheek and the nurse attending sickbay sent him to a private cubical with orders to strip to his underwear. While the Academy only had one part Klingon student, S'harah worked on several starships and star-bases in her thirty year career. Looking up his record, she smirked. Cadet Torres had her fair share of trouble in the last two years.

"Seems the overnight Doctor expected you to return later this morning, Lt. Paris. There was a note entered into your file only ten hours ago," S'harah greeted with a knowing smile and teasing tone. She quickly treated his very bruised but not broken clavicle. "I'll get the dermal regenerator to clean up the bumps, bruises and bites from the neck down. For your sake, I'm leaving the one on your face."

"Why," Tom questioned. His blue eyes openly displaying his confusion.

"Because your partner is only going to place it their again tonight if I remove it," S'harah chuckled. "I've served on a Star Base with seven Klingon's in residence, so I know what I'm talking about."

"B'Elanna," Tom didn't quite know how to ask.

"Klingon name, I know the Cadet," S'harah stated easily. "Been in more than a few scrapes. I can't talk about her medical history but if you have questions of a more general nature, I'll try to answer them. I noticed the Doctor gave you some reading material in regard to sexual practices between species."

"Yes, Ma'am," Tom responded with a smile. The nurse's matter of fact attitude gave him the courage to speak openly. "I read it this morning, but it would have been a little more help a few days ago. Before we, well, made love, B'Elanna said some words in Klingon the universal translator couldn't make out."

"jIH dok," S'harah knew she butchered the strange words. She watched the young man pulling his grey undershirt over his healed torso. It seemed Lt. Paris didn't comprehend the significance of the words. Nor did their com badges translate the phrase. It would be culturally inappropriate.

"I think that's what B'Elanna said," he responded with a look of intrigue.

"It means _my blood._ " Even with her explanation, Tom still didn't appreciate the significance. "With that bite mark on you're cheek you have two choices, Lieutenant," S'harah announced, her tone both serious and concerned. "Either end the relationship now, or consider yourself engaged at the very least."

"Excuse me," Tom's heart suddenly raced and beads of sweat gathered on his forehead.

"The words are usually said at the beginning of the bonding ceremony. Humans would consider it a marriage. Once the words are said, a Klingon female has initiated a life long bond." S'harah knew the moment her patient understood. "If blood was shared the bond has been sealed. Because you aren't Klingon, I don't know if you actually need to make the correct responses or if it will change the sentiment for B'Elanna if you didn't. Officially, no witnesses are required to make the commitment legal."

"Right," Tom's tone said he'd heard the words but hadn't completely processed the information.

"You can stay as long as you need to," S'harah offered, running the tricorder over her patient. His elevated adrenalin levels indicated he was in a fight or flight response. Although it tickled the nurse's fancy, she kept her amusement internalised.

"No," Tom suddenly stood, gathered his clothing and straightened to his full height. "I have some thinking to do."

"Come back if you need to speak about anything," S'harah offered, leaving him to dress.

Nodding his thanks, Lt. Thomas Paris waved at the nurse when he marched out of sickbay. Crossing the campus into the administration building, his visit there was not as uncomplicated as Tom would have liked. Three hours later, a lot wearier, Tom Paris finally entered the apartment to find B'Elanna pouring over the computer terminal.

"We need to talk," he stated, more than a little ill at ease and dreading the conversation they needed to have.

Needing less sleep than a full human but more than a full Klingon, B'Elanna once again woke before Tom. She watched him sleep for a few minutes before feeling restless. Swimming yesterday had taken the edge off her chaotic thoughts. Today B'Elanna needed to run.

Careful not to wake the peacefully slumbering man, she grabbed her backpack and located the Starfleet training uniform that should have gone into the recycler with the rest of her academy paraphernalia. Although officially no longer a Cadet, B'Elanna donned the outfit and made the four hundred metre dash to the academy decathlon training grounds. The season long over, Torres could use the track undisturbed. Commencing her warm up, she had every intention of completing a ten kilometre run. The distance was long enough to think but not obsess.

A little over three kilometres in, Sean Kelley appeared, starting his own pre run exercises. At the half way point, Kelly joined his training partner of the last two years. They ran two laps together in companionable silence. Then Sean placed a hand of B'Elanna's forearm and they slowed to a pace where they could talk.

"I heard you'd dropped out," Kelly stated. There was no emotion in his voice but he watched her carefully, eyeing the training uniform which would indicate the gossip had been malicious. _You never could tell where Torres was concerned_ , he thought.

"You heard right," B'Elanna stated.

"Bad idea, Torres," Sean responded carefully. He knew of her temper, had experienced it once. After the altercation was done, they become, well not exactly friends but working acquaintances who understood each other.

Her temper rising, B'Elanna growled and stopped dead. She hated people talking about her. Yet she'd been the author of this little play, giving the other students just want they wanted, a reason to despise that Klingon who should never had entered Starfleet in the first place.

Before B'Elanna could storm off, Sean grabbed her wrist. Tightening his grip, he swung her back to face him. "I want you to listen, B'Elanna Torres and hear what I've got to say. Like it or not you would have friends here if you opened up a little and let people in. No one on the tract team wants to see you gone and don't say it only because of your talent. We've all heard the rumour, that you left to be with your Officer boyfriend but I know you well enough to see through that."

"What gives you the right…" B'Elanna started, eyes flashing in anger.

"Shut up, Torres, for once in your life and use your incredible mind instead of bashing your head against a brick wall. Treat this like you would an engineering problem," Sean hissed. It seemed to get through, although he could read the volatile emotions still crossing her face. "It's less than a week until finals. You're quitting without completing your second year. Hang the Starfleet Officer training, it's not going to get you anywhere outside of this place. It's the engineering courses you're going to need to get somewhere. What sort of employment will you be qualified for with one year of engineering studies?"

Her temper cooling; B'Elanna had been considering the same question as her feet pounded the track. "I can transfer to another university," she stated, starting to move again, this time at a slower speed so they could talk.

"And have to redo the entire second year syllabus," Sean grinned, knowing he had her, "that's ridiculous and you know it, Torres. Better to swallow that Klingon pride and sit exams with the rest of us next week. Then," he teased, "if you want to leave and become the partner of some Starfleet Officer, following your Lieutenant from ship to base for the next ten years, that's up to you."

"How in Kathless's name do you know about Tom?" B'Elanna demanded, regretting her temper the moment her lovers name came out of her mouth.

"Your ex saw the two of you exit the Administration Building a couple of days ago and _**Tom**_ was carrying a box of your belongings," Sean chuckled at the woman's sour expression. "Max is still mad as hell at you over dumping him, not that I blame you. The guy's an idiot. _**I've**_ never known you to let anyone do anything for you. So, is it true? You and this _**Tom**_?"

"Like I'd tell you," B'Elanna's rage fed her speed. Racing ahead, she continued her workout unconsciously considering everything Sean said. As she approached her warm down, Cadet Kelly shook his head from his position on the grass in the middle of the track. He'd only run four kilometres.

"Weakling," Torres threw at him as an apology, continuing to walk out her fatigued muscles.

"I'm meeting up with Nico, Liter and Zia to go over some course work," Sean panted, "so I don't have time for more now. I'm catching up with the team later this evening if you want to join us at the clubhouse."

"I'll think about it," B'Elanna stated noncommittally.

"You can even bring Tom," Sean smirked. "1900."

Shaking her head, B'Elanna headed back to the apartment. Considering Tom's words to the doctor earlier this morning, she wondered at the state of their relationship. It seemed to have become very official very suddenly and way to easily. B'Elanna knew exactly how she felt about it. She'd never felt the need to mate, either the Human or Klingon way prior to meeting Tom Paris. With Max it had been different; almost peer pressure to do the deed because it was expected. Only now did she understand it would have been a disaster. With Tom it had been natural, instinctive and so good. B'Elanna let those Klingon words slip out as she customarily sniffed his right wrist. Her hand had been near his lips at the time. Something within her burst forth and they'd come without a coherent thought.

 _I hope he never understands the meaning,_ B'Elanna closed her eyes in a moment of very Human pain. It had been the slight blood loss from losing her virginity that sealed the bond for her. Tom had bled to, from a scratch when her fingers raked his back. It was enough for her Klingon sense to complete the Mating ritual, in her mind at least. Until the day either one of them died, Tom Paris would be her only lover and her mate. _Not that he knows that._

Returning to the apartment, B'Elanna was greeted with his voice and image on the computer terminal. "Hey, I hope you had a great morning. I'm going over to the Admin building and adding you to my billet. Our little stop at sickbay last night and all," his eyes twinkled with mirth. "After that, I have to go see the Admiral. He's left three messages on my personal channel. Not sure when I'll be back but thought you might like to take an air tram to Los Angeles Island. I read somewhere the Santa Monica Pier has been rebuilt and I wouldn't mind seeing it. Paris out."

Smiling, B'Elanna ignored the flare of joy in her chest. Tom could be adorable, leaving such a message. Clearing the video, she got to work. It didn't take long to uncover the kinds of jobs out there for unqualified engineers, even ones with her practical experience. Sean had been right, without her final grades for second year, she be forced to either sit testing exams or repeat the entire year at another institution. Even in the worst case scenario, if Tom asked her to go with him to his next posting, employment opportunities within Starfleet for a civilian partner were minuscule at best with her current education. Finally, B'Elanna looked at her options for completing her studies in the real world. That's were Tom found her when he walked through the door with a solemn, reflective expression on his features.

"About what," she asked, confused.

"Your future." Sighing, Tom picked up her box and transferred it to the small table before falling onto the couch. He looked exhausted. "I want you to listen before you get mad," he stated, eyes pleading. "When I went to add you as an occupant in the apartment, I found myself facing Professor Chapman."

"Chapman," B'Elanna shouted, springing from her chair with hands on hips. "I've fought with that petaQ almost every day. All I had to do was question his methods and outdated assumptions, and he slaps me down like some upstart kid. I'm surprised he didn't help me pack."

Standing with yet another sigh, as if he knew how hard this would be, Tom grabbed B'Elanna's chin and made her look at him. "I want this out in the open, Torres…"

"My name is B'Elanna," she growled in warning.

"When I'm taking to you as my, what B'Elanna, partner, lover, friend. Right now this is about something a whole lot more important that us," Tom expression became hard, determined, demanding. "Chapman wants you back at the academy and in uniform. He won't accept your resignation and is trying to buy my assistance to get you to return."

"He what," she exploded, pulling out of his grip. "That's blackmail!"

"Professor Chapman had offered to go head and toe with my father, no easy battle, to secure a position piloting R&D craft if I use my influence and get you back into his classroom," Tom stated, keeping his tone deadly quiet and his blue orbs trained on the pacing woman. After reading B'Elanna's academic and conduct records this afternoon, he knew this response was to be expected.

"Why are you telling me this," she hissed, picking up the nearest object and throwing it in her Klingon temper.

"I want everything between us laid out, B'Elanna," Tom stated quietly, unperturbed by the violent outburst. "I don't want any misunderstandings. I don't want you to think I'm using you to take a posting that I've only ever dreamt of. I want you to choose your future based on what's best for you and no one else. The only way you can do that is if you're presented with the truth."

"What if all I want is you," she'd come close enough so their toes met and noses touched.

"I got that," he touched the healing bite mark on his cheek. "We'll get to the meaning of those Klingon words you said the first time we made love later."

Growling, Tom knew what was coming as B'Elanna launched herself at him. When her hand came up, Paris very deliberately held it firm, locking his gaze with Torres. Bringing it to his nose, Tom Paris very deliberately sniffed. B'Elanna's eyes became wide, her senses on alert and her orbs shone with desire. Yet somehow he knew this was not the time to answer her mating call by using the words he memorised this afternoon. Right now, B'Elanna Torres needed this release before she could work through the train reck that had become her life.

"Tell me what happened," B'Elanna asked, her body still slick with sweat but spooned against Tom. Content, she was in the mood to listen.

"When I asked to have you placed on my billet, the administrative assistant gave me this odd look," Tom smiled, kissing the point behind B'Elanna's ear. One she found very sensitive. It should disturb him, the dichotomy between her Klingon and Human halves, yet he found it alluring. "She asked me to wait a moment and disappeared. Honestly, I thought it might have something to do with our visit to sickbay last night. It seemed Professor Chapman's heard the rumour that you've shacked up with a serving officer and ordered that officer beamed to his office."

"He site to site'd you without warning," B'Elanna snickered, proving her demeanour was better and her humour returning.

"Is he always so," Tom paused for find the word, "dower?"

"On a good day," B'Elanna said, her hand stroking Tom's arm. "Mostly he just gives you this look, like you're a complete imbecile and then yells if you question him."

"I got the run down on your two years at the Academy," Tom continued recounting his morning. "Whatever you believe, Professor Chapman think's your brilliant. He made the offer believing I'd fall for it without informing you. I might not know you well, but I'm pretty sure I could guess your reaction if I even considered something so selfish. When I said I'd discuss it with you, he seemed to, well, shrink. Honestly, B'Elanna, it was like his world had fallen in and he had no hope. I really believe he was disappointed, and then he started accusing me of wanting to take you away and deprive Starfleet of the brightest, most talented engineering student this century. Don't laugh; I'm repeating most of his words. I tried to deny it, telling him I knew you enough that I'd never make the mistake of denying you the choice. Finally Chapman conceded the point. Honestly, it was pitiful when he pleaded to make you complete your degree anywhere if you were really set against Starfleet."

B'Elanna didn't say a word. It was too much to take in. Several minutes passed in companionable silence before she asked, "what happened with the admiral?"

"I should have seen dear old Dad prior to adding you to my billet," Tom stated sarcastically. "I don't think I was out of Chapman's office more than two minutes when the Admiral com'ed me. The moment I left, Chapman must have called Dad."

"Another site to site," B'Elanna guessed.

"One minute I'm on my way back here to speak with you, the next I'm in dear old dad's office," Tom's tone dripped with irony, although he was attempting to make light of the situation. "I got a dressing down the likes of which I've never heard before. His face was so red; honestly I thought he'd have a heart attack. Then he tells me not to disappoint my mother by missing dinner tonight."

"You have to go," B'Elanna stated with a deep frown.

"I know," Tom responded quietly. "I'll have to get up, it's 1800 hundred now and I need to be there soon."

"Do you want me to come with you?" B'Elanna asked, shivering internally at the thought of facing Kathy and her siblings if they were anything like she imagined.

"No," Tom shouted, sitting abruptly. Turning over to face him, B'Elanna saw the shear panic on his face. He'd never tell her about the words of censure his father hurled at him with respect to his choice of lover. It seemed Kathy had gotten in her father's ear and the situation exacerbated by Professor Chapman's ultimatum. "That would enflame an already explosive situation. Believe me, B'Elanna, I don't want to go. There's no way I'd ever subject you to my family."

"Not even your mother?" she asked unhappily.

Shaking his head, Tom wouldn't be drawn in to further conversation on that subject.

"I went for a run this morning," B'Elanna chose to change the subject to one just as painful for her. Quickly she summarised the meeting with Sean Kelly and the invitation to catch up with her teammates. Oddly, she felt nervous telling Tom. "I think I'll go and talk with them about exams."

"You've decided to sit your finals?" Tom asked, keeping his pleasure contained. He'd come to the conclusion that Starfleet might not be her best option, however the Engineering world would be all the poorer if she didn't complete a formal degree.

"I'm even going to attend the Starfleet Officer units," B'Elanna couldn't look at him. Asking for help had never come easily, "if you'll tutor me."

"Then you're thinking of returning to the Academy?" Tom didn't know how his voice came out so evenly with the lump in his throat.*

"No." B'Elanna's eyes met his, determination shining in the dark depths. "Starfleet isn't for me. I think I've proved that over the last two years. I need to prove I can do this for me. Besides, wherever I continue my degree, it will look good on my academic transcript."

"I think it's a good choice, Torres," Tom smiled.

"You really wanted R&D," she finally saw the dying hope now her own insecurities had been conquered "didn't you."

"Yes," Tom answered, "but not at the cost of your future. It was never my decision to make, B'Elanna."

* * *

*I'm thinking of doing another story which would diverge at this point. I'm not sure if Tom and/or B'Elanna would make it onto Voyager in that universe, but it seems too good a plot not to explore. Let me know what you think.


	6. A Night of Disappointments

**Chapter Six: A Night of Disappointments**

Tom stood outside the floor to ceiling windows, watching his mother in the kitchen. She was placing the final touches on the meal she'd serve tonight, yet his mother didn't look happy. Shaking his head, Tom Paris knew he was probably the reason. He should have been here half an hour ago. Fact was, Lt. Paris was trying to gather his courage. He had been standing in this exact position for the last fifteen minutes, afraid to enter his childhood home.

Feeling like a voyeur, Tom sighed and finally found the nerve to approach the door. At the slight sound the electronic whoosh, his mother looked up, her green eyes filled with hope. Then came the smile could have lit the entire universe which only made Tom feel even worse for disappointing her. Going to the woman, she accepted her youngest child with open arms. Neither said a word as the embrace tightened.

"I didn't think you would come," Justine Paris commented when she finally pulled away, watching the emotions cross her son's bright blue orbs. They changed colour ever so slightly, allowing her to read her son's conflict.

"I almost didn't," Tom responded sadly, unable to look his mother in the eye any longer. There could be nothing but honesty between them. "What are Dad and Kathy saying?"

"I won't repeat my eldest daughter's opinions. Suffice to say we've had words," Justine stated, pushing Tom onto a seat at the breakfast bar. Silence encompassed them for a few moments as the matriarch of the family drank in her son's presence. "Your father's another matter entirely, as I'm sure you've already guessed."

"Ah," Tom smirked, hiding behind the caviller attitude he'd learnt to adopt when speaking to or about his father.

"Thomas," Justine rebuked, handing her son a replicated synthale. He watched the cold beverage as it caused drops of condensation to form on the outside of the glass, drawing into himself. She'd seen it before and expected this reaction. "Tell me about this woman, the one you seem to have met recently."

"B'Elanna," Tom's smile couldn't be kept from his face at the mention of her name. "She's not quite like anyone I've ever met. I guess you could call her unique. B'El's smart, funny, furious and one of the most perplexing people I've ever met. She's so confused right now and it's bringing out all sorts of protective feelings I've never experienced. I just want to hold her tight and shield her from the world. Not that I'd ever tell B'Elanna that, she'd probably throw something at me!"

The story came out, every last detail without Justine saying a word. Letting her son talk through his emotions, she could see the bond forming between him and this complicated cadet. Of all her children, Tom was the most sensitive, the most easily hurt, the one most likely to marry young and break the bonds of Paris family tradition by starting his own. At some point, Justine knew her only male child would become comfortable in his own skin, uncaring of his father's opinion. At that point, neither the Paris name nor Starfleet wouldn't hold him back from his true potential.

"I never meant our relationship to get this complicated. I just wanted to give B'Elanna the time and opportunity to make good decisions about her future. You taught me how important it is to consider all the consequences of your actions before making important choices. B'El's never had anyone to guide her. I know Starfleet isn't in her future. Heck, she knows it too," Tom finally finished.

"Is it the thrill of the chase," Justine asked, "or do you really care for this girl?"

"B'Elanna's not a girl," Tom smiled, remembering their activities before getting ready for this dinner.

"And yet, from what you tell me, that's exactly what she is," Justine commented softly. "At nineteen, away from her family and friends, what does she know of the world. She's hardly lived. You've pledged yourself as her protector, Tom, determined to show her what you were doing at the same age. Remember how it felt to be free of all restraint, to explore your sexuality and develop your personality without the bonds of family expectation."

Drawing in a deep breath, he exhaled slowly. "That's why I never meant to sleep with her, Mom. I really don't quite know how it happened. I had every intention of taking the couch but B'Elanna had other ideas," he sounded embarrassed.

"A determined young lady," Justine couldn't help the chuckle. "Be careful, Thomas. I think you could lose your heart to this woman very easily from what I see. At nineteen, few women are ready for a lifelong commitment, much less a confused girl on the cusp of womanhood, especially one who had little life experience."

"You're the one who taught me about consequences," Tom smiled shyly in return. "I'm attempting to pass that lesson on to B'Elanna. All I know, is she needs to learn to control her Klingon temper and come to terms with that part of her heritage if she's going to get anywhere in this universe."

"Wise words from a young man who's finally grown up," Justine couldn't have been more content with the way her son had matured. "You have superseded my greatest expectations, Thomas. I'm prodigiously proud of you."

 _It's a pity I'll never hear those words from my father_ , Tom tried to keep his expression from giving away his thoughts. It was impossible with his mother.

Coming around the breakfast bar, she pointed to her son's heart. "You need to become content in here," Justine stated, "with yourself, before you start on the journey of sharing your life with another person. What others think, is inconsequential. It doesn't make you who you are, only you can do that. When you know yourself, then you will be ready to embark on that voyage with another."

"I think I'm coming to understand that," Tom answered. "In a strange way, B'Elanna's part of the process."

Justine Paris didn't comment because she understood her son was ready to take on such a huge commitment, even if he hadn't quite come to that realisation yet.

"Thomas, you're here," Owen Paris entered the kitchen to see his wife and son standing close. They'd always shared a bond he could never emulate. It seemed Justine knew their son in a way he never would, or could understand. Somehow is wife got the best from the boy with soft words, where as his seemed to bounce off Tom's thick hide.

"Aye, Sir," Tom said, feeling himself becoming all Starfleet officer before his father's scrutiny.

"I've spoken with Captain H'eWi of the Exeter. He's looking forward to you joining his crew," Owen opened with a smile. _Maybe, for this one night, my son and I might just be on the same page. I didn't even need to coheres H'eWi, the man knew Thomas's talent and approached me._

"I haven't accepted the posting, Sir," Tom stated, finding the strength to argue for the first time.

"I hope you're not going to take up the R&D position Chapman is determined to secure for you because of that dropout cadet," Owen demanded, his ire rising.

"No," Tom responded, "and that 'drop out cadet' has a name. B'Elanna's going to take her second year exams but will still be leaving Starfleet. Either way, my decision won't be influenced by B'Elanna."

"Then why? What other posting could you accept that will keep your career on track?" Owen asked, a little less concerned about his son's current lover's influence but not so much his future prospects.

"Before I left _Sutherland_ , Commander Smith of Caldik Prime offered to support an application as Chief Pilot for their transport section. I'd be running my own division on a Starbase," Tom stated. Although he'd never tell his father it wasn't what he really wanted to do with his life, it was a hell of a lot closer than second officer on Exeter. "The opportunity for promotion in the next two or three years would be almost guaranteed with the current department head due to retire."

"You'll get trapped and never make it back to a starship with that career path," Owen frowned. "Come by my office tomorrow and we'll discuss this future in detail."

"I think it's time to call everyone into the dining room," Justine interrupted, understanding only too well were this conversation was going and how it would end. "Thomas, take the salad through. Owen, get the girls."

What followed was tedious beyond belief and expected as far as Tom was concerned. Kathy's unhappiness was blinding. Until that conversation with B'Elanna over dinner a few nights ago, he never would have been so perceptive to his eldest sister stilted emotions and conversation. Captain Johnson was a boar, proving to be Starfleet through and through. It was no wonder The Admiral admired his son-in-law.

Steph was euphoric about her posting and the birth of her daughter after three sons. At her side Jab tried to keep the peace with the aid of Justine Paris, rather unsuccessfully. He was a kind, caring man who spoke softly and attempted to avoid conflict. Tom had never taken the time to know his brother-in-law well. Steph had marred while he was still at high school and left for a posting soon after. They met on occasions like this and never had the opportunity to speak alone. Tom suddenly regretted that choice when Jab proved to be his best ally at the table.

Elizabeth remained quiet, listening to the family discussion going on around her. When the topic of her brother raised its ugly head, her look said enough. Of all the Paris children, she'd taken a posting on Vulcan early in her career with the intention of going into the diplomatic core. It seemed her choice had payed off. Even the Admiral was supportive of her new position.

"Are we going to meet this woman?" Elizabeth asked easily.

"I don't know," Tom answered cautiously. Trained in politics and diplomacy, Lizzy saw more than she let on. "I'm not sure you'll see me again before you return to Vulcan."

That set his father off and the evening deteriorated further. The moment sweets were over, Tom excused himself. However, Admiral Paris had the last word.

"My office, ten sharp, Thomas," he stated in an unwavering voice. "We'll talk about the direction of your career then."

"Sorry, Dad," Tom found the courage to contradict the man. "I can't make it. I'll give you a call next week when I have more idea what I want to do. Night all."

Justine excused herself, following her son to the front door. "Don't be a stranger, Thomas, and I want to meet this B'Elanna."

Nodding, he hugged his mother, knowing it would never happen. Taking the site to site device from his pocket, Tom activated the transporter. Appearing at the academy's main station, Lt. Paris signed the equipment back in before heading towards his apartment, wondering if B'Elanna had a better night.

B'Elanna was in the middle of an argument with Tia at the exact moment Tom entered their apartment. It was at times like this she remembered why Starfleet wasn't for her. The two women had never gotten along. Cadet Tia was just to, well, everything B'Elanna hated about this institution and most of the people in it.

"There is a seven-day grace period, Tia," Shaun sighed, while looking at B'Elanna with a shrug. He'd come to rescue the half Klingon from the argument she found herself in. "Meaning Torres can rescind her resignation until next Tuesday."

"I didn't know that," B'Elanna looked to her new friend with appreciation. _Maybe if I'd made the right kind of friends, the Academy wouldn't have been so bad._

Smiling down at the diminutive woman, Shaun teased, "if you payed attention in the protocol classes, you would have. Those rules and regulations are in place for a reason Torres. You need to know them, if you want to circumnavigate them. Anyway, all you need to do is stay until the end of the exam period. After that, you can go where ever you like, with whomever you like."

"Of course, the fraternisation rule will apply," Tia smirked. "Meaning, the moment it's known you're in a relationship with your officer boyfriend, you'll get expelled."

"Like I care," B'Elanna growled. Automatically she crossed her arms over her chest. However, the image of Tom enacting the same pose a few nights ago assaulted her mind. Suddenly realising this behaviour was the cause of her isolation, Torres dropped her arms reluctantly and felt vulerable.

"Do you need help with the Officer units?" Shaun asked, carefully.

"Tom's agreed to help me pass them," B'Elanna sighed.

Chuckling, Shaun responded, "who better than a serving officer to get you over the line. It's not like you need more than a pass anyway, Torres. So, what are your plans after you leave the academy."

"I don't know," B'Elanna offered with a shrug of her shoulders. "Tom ships out in three weeks. I guess I'll decide then."

"You're not going with him?" Nico demanded, confused. "If you're willing to give up your place at the academy to be with this guy, you must love him."

Strangely, B'Elanna's temper failed to rise, even when Tia added a nasty taunt. Nico had a point, Torres mind agreed as she mulled over his statement. Only it wasn't quite as easy as Nico assumed. Lt. Paris hadn't mentioned the future, he hadn't even hinted at their relationship continuing beyond his shore leave. While she might have uttered those cursed Klingon words, it seemed Tom had either ignored them or didn't know their meaning. Even if he hadn't answered her, B'Elanna had been brought up by her very Klingon mother and they meant something to her.

"I've got to go," she suddenly interrupted the argument between Tia and Nico with a need to see Tom, to hear his voice. Both made some comment about running back to her boyfriend, one teasing, the other slightly malicious.

"You're jealous, Tia," Shaun mocked the cadet, "cause Torres managed to snag one of the famous Paris's."

As she left, B'Elanna heard Nico draw in a sharp breath. "Tom Paris," he sounded shocked, "as in Admiral Owen Paris's only son? The guy on the fast track to Captain?"

"That's what Max said," Tia almost spat.

 _Max Burke better not cross my path_ , B'Elanna Torres raged internally, _or I'll show him a Klingon temper he won't soon forget._

"Hey," Tom greeted the moment B'Elanna entered the apartment. He could tell from the expression on her face the night hadn't gone well. "Want to talk about it?"

"Do you?" She returned with a furious expression, picking up the nearest object and throwing it across the room. Luckily, after this afternoons temper tantrum, Tom had replicated a host of soft items for just such a purpose and placed them within easy reaching distance. They were weighty enough to satisfy her anger, and made a resounding thunk without damaging the apartment.

Understanding, Paris shook his head in answer. They'd both had a night neither wanted to recall. A feral smile crossed Tom's face as he recalled a passage from the doctor's manual on sex with a Klingon. In this mood he needed to be dominant with B'Elanna. Without warning, he flew across the room and pinned her to the wall with her hands over her head. Brown eyes watched him carefully, slowly turning liquid with desire. When Tom's teeth sunk into her neck, Torres growled her pleasure. Still the man wouldn't give her an inch and it excited her libido further.

"What am I going to do with you," Tom leant over her the next morning, his fingers tracing the bit mark on her neck.

"Seeing as we kept the neighbours up all night," B'Elanna teased, "I wouldn't suggest that again."

Letting out a full-bodied laugh, Tom Paris had to agree. At one-point security had been called to ensure the welfare of the room's occupants. While it had embarrassed B'Elanna, she'd been to lost to her Klingon pheromones to care.

"Why don't we take the air tram to Los Angeles for a few hours. When we come back, I can help you study for your exams," Tom offered.

"I'm not taking human anatomy," B'Elanna mocked.

"I think you've achieved an A in that course," Tom returned with a smile. "Come on, Torres, let's get going."


End file.
